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'The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge
Their straighten'd lungs or conscious of their

charge.
DRYDEN-Astræa Reduz. L. 242.

Perhaps the wind Wails so in winter for the summer's dead, And all sad sounds are nature's funeral cries For what has been and is not.

GEORGE ELIOT— The Spanish Gypsy. Bk. I. But certain winds will make men's temper bad. GEORGE ELIOTThe Spanish Gypsy. Bk. I.

(See also DICKENS) The wind moans, like a long wail from some despairing soul shut out in the awful storm!

W. H. GIBSON—Pastoral Days. Winter. The wind, the wandering wind

Of the golden summer eves Whence is the thrilling magic

Of its tunes amongst the leaves? Oh, is it from the waters,

Or from the long, tall grass?
Or is it from the hollow rocks

Through which its breathings pass?
FELICIA D. HEMANS—The Wandering Wind.

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Loud wind, strong wind, sweeping o'er the moun

tains, Fresh wind, free wind, blowing from the sea, Pour forth thy vials like streams from airy moun

tains, Draughts of life to me. D. M. MULOCK-North Wind.

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When the stormy winds do blow.
MARTYN PARKER-Ye Gentlemen of England.

(See also CAMPBELL)
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Cum ventis litigare.

To strive with the winds.
PETRONIUS ARBITER. 83.

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An ill wind that bloweth no man good-
The blower of which blast is she.
JOHN HEYWOOD Idleness. St. 5.
(See also HENRY IV, HENRY VI, TUSSER)

9 Madame, bear in mind That princes govern all things save the wind.

VICTOR HUGOThe Infanta's Rose.

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He stayeth his rough wind in the day of the east wind.

Isaiah. XXVII. 8.

11 The wind bloweth where it listeth.

John. III. 8.

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I hear the wind among the trees
Playing the celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.

LONGFELLOW-A Day of Sunshine. St. 3.
Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear

Has grown familiar with your song; I hear it in the opening year,

I listen, and it cheers me long.

LONGFELLOW—Woods in Winter. St. 7. It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds'

cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my

eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown

hills,

Who walketh upon the wings of the wind.

Psalms. CIV. 3.

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And the South Wind-he was dressed
With a ribbon round his breast
That floated, flapped, and fluttered

In a riotous unrest
And a drapery of mist

From the shoulder to the wrist
Floating backward with the motion

Of the waving hand he kissed. . JAMES WHITCOMB RILEYThe South Wind

and the Sun. 24 A young man who had been troubling society with impalpable doctrines of a new civilization which he called “the Kingdom of Heaven" had been put out of the way; and I can imagine that believer in material power murmuring as he went homeward, “it will all blow over now." Yes. The wind from the Kingdom of Heaven has blown over the world, and shall blow for centuries yet. GEORGE W. RUSSELLThe Economics of Ire

land. P. 23.

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O the wind is a faun in the spring time
When the ways are green for the tread of the

May!
List! hark his lay!
Whist! mark his play!

T-r-r-r-1!
Hear how gay!
CLINTON SCOLLARDThe Wind.

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Firm and erect the Caledonian stood; Sound was his mutton, and his claret good; “Let him drink port!” the English statesman

cried: He drank the poison, and his spirit died.

Anon. In Dood's Epigrammatists. (1870) Old Simon the cellarer keeps a rare store

Of Malmsey and Malvoisie.
G. W. BELLAMY—Simon the Cellarer.

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John Barleycorn was a hero bold,

Of noble enterprise,
For if you do but taste his blood,

'Twill make your courage rise, Twill make a man forget his wo;

'Twill heighten all his joy.
BURNS-John Barleycorn. St. 13.

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Emblem of man, who, after all his moaning

And strain of dire immeasurable strife, Has yet this consolation, all atoning

Life, as a windmill, grinds the bread of Life.

DE TABLEY--The Windmill. Sweet and low, sweet and low,

Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea!
TENNYSONPrincess. Song. End of Pt. II.

A fresher Gale Begins to wave the wood, and stir the stream, Sweeping with shadowy gust the fields of corn; While the Quail clamors for his running mate.

THOMSON—Seasons. Summer. L. 1,655.

11 Yet true it is as cow chews cud, And trees at spring do yield forth bud, Except wind stands as never it stood, It is an ill wind turns none to good. TUSSER—Five Hundred Points of Good Hus

bandrie. Description of the Properties of Winds. Ch. XII.

(See also HEYWOOD) I dropped my pen; and listened to the wind

That sang of trees uptorn and vessels tost;

A midnight harmony and wholly lost To the general sense of men by chains confined Of business, care, or pleasure, or resigned

To timely sleep.

So Noah, when he anchor'd safe on
The mountain's top, his lofty haven,
And all the passengers he bore
Were on the new world set ashore,
He made it next his chief design
To plant and propagate a vine,
Which since has overwhelm'd and drown'd
Far greater numbers, on dry ground,
Of wretched mankind, one by one,
Than all the flood before had done.

BUTLER-Satire Upon Drunkenness. L. 105.

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Few things surpass old wine; and they may

preach Who please, the more because they preach in

vain,

Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda-water the day after.

BYRONDon Juan. Canto II. St. 178.

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Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, And Fear her danger; opens a new world When this, the present, palls.

BYRON-Sardanapalus. Act I. Sc. 1.

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The wine in the bottle does not quench thirst.

HERBERT Jacula Prudentum.

13 Wine makes all sorts of creatures at table.

HERBERT Jacula Prudentum,

14 You cannot know wine by the barrel.

HERBERT-Jacula Prudentum.

15 Sparkling and bright, in liquid light,

Does the wine our goblets gleam in; With hue as red as the rosy bed

Which a bee would choose to dream in. CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN-Sparkling and

Bright. 16 And wine can of their wits the wise beguile, Make the sage frolic, and the serious smile. HOMER-Odyssey. Bk. XIV. L. 520. POPE's

trans.

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Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.

BYRON-Sweet Things. St. 5.

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Sing! Who sings
To her who weareth a hundred rings?

Ah, who is this lady fine?
The Vine, boys, the Vine!
The mother of the mighty Wine,
A roamer is she

O'er wall and tree
And sometimes very good company.
BARRY CORNWALL-A Bacchanalian Song.

Ten thousand casks, Forever dribbling out their base contents, Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. Drink, and be mad then;

'tis your country bids! COWPER-The Task. Bk. IV. L. 504.

5 The conscious water saw its God and blushed. CRASHAWTranslation of His Own Epigram

on the Miracle of Cana. St. John's Gospel.
Ch. II.
(See also CRASHAW under MIRACLES)

Nunc vino pellite curas.

Now drown care in wine.
HORACE—Carmina. I. 7. 32.

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Vino diffugiunt mordaces curæ.

By wine eating cares are put to flight. Adapted from HORACE—Carmina. I. 18. 4;

and 7. 31.

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Quis post vina gravem militiam aut pauperiem crepat?

Who prates of war or want after his wine? HORACE—Carmina. I. 18. 5.

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“It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass in a broken voice, “it was the salmon.”

DICKENSPickwick Papers. Ch. VIII.

Spes donare novas largus, amaraque
Curarum eluere efficax.

Mighty to inspire new hopes, and able to drown the bitterness of cares. HORACE_Carmina. IV. 12. 19.

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Fæcundi calices quem non fecere disertum.

Whom has not the inspiring bowl made eloquent. HORACE-Epistles. I. 5. 19.

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When asked what wines he liked to drink he replied, “That which belongs to another.” DIOGENES LAERTIUS Lives and Opinions

of Eminent Philosophers. Diogenes. VI.

YONGE's trans. 8 Bring me wine, but wine which never grew

In the belly of the grape,
Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching

through
Under the Andes to the Cape,
Suffered no savor of the earth to escape.
EMERSON—Bacchus. St. 1.

As for the brandy, “nothing extenuate"; and the water, put nought in in malice. DOUGLAS JERROLD-Jerrold's Wit. Shakes

peare Grog.

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From wine what sudden friendship springs?

GAY-Fables. Pt. II. Fable 6.

Claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy. SAMUEL JOHNSONBoswell's Life of Johnson.

(1779) 24 But that which most doth take my muse and me, Is a pure cup of rich Canary wine, Which is the mermaid's now, but shall be mine. BEN JONSONEpigram CÍ.

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Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain,

With grammar, and nonsense, and learning; Good liquor, I stoutly maintain,

Gives genius a better discerning.
GOLDSMITH-She Stoops to Conquer. Act I.

Sc. 1. Song.

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Wine it is the milk of Venus,
And the poet's horse accounted:
Ply it and you all are mounted.
BEN JONSON. From lines over the door of

the “Apollo.
Wine to the poet is a wingéd steed:
Those who drink water come but little speed.
From the Greek Anthology.

(See also MOORE)

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Wine that maketh glad the heart of man.

Psalms. CIV. 15.

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We care not for money, riches, nor wealth; Old sack is our money, old sack is our wealth.

THOMAS RANDOLPHThe Praise of Old Sack.

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The produce of the vineyards has not failed everywhere, Ovidius. The heavy rains have been productive. Coranus made up a hundred jars by means of the water.

MARTIAL-Epigrams. Bk. IX. Ep. 98.

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Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape,
Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine.

MILTONComus. II. 46.
If with water you fill up your glasses,

You'll never write anything wise;
For wine is the horse of Parnassus,

Which hurries a bard to the skies.
MOORE.

(See also JONSON) o Roman punch! O potent Curaçoa! O Maraschino! Maraschino O! Delicious drams! Why have you not the art To kill this gnawing Book-worm in my heart? MOORE-Twopenny Post Bag. See Appendix,

Letter VII.

Der Wein erfindet nichts, er schwatzt's nur aus.

Wine tells nothing, it only tattles.
SCHILLER-Piccolomini. IV. 7. 42.

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Vinum incendit iram.

Wine kindles wrath.
SENECA-De Ira. Bk. II. 19.
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A
сир

of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in 't. Coriolanus. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 52.

(See also LOVELACE) 23

Give me a bowl of wine;
In this I bury all unkindness.

Julius Cæsar. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 158.
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O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!

Othello. Act II. Sc. 3. L. 283.

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Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter fruit. OMAR KHAYYAM -- Rubaiyat. FitzGERALD'S

trans. St. 54.

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Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used; exclaim no more against it.

Othello. Act II. Sc. 3. L. 313.

The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:

The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice
Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute.
OMAR KHAYYAM Rubaiyat. FitzGERALD'S

trans. St. 59.

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Vina paract animos, faciuntque coloribus aptos: Cura fugit multo diluiturque mero.

Wine stimulates the mind and makes it quick with heat; care flees and is dissolved in much drink. Ovm-Ars Amatoria. Bk. I. 237.

Like the best wine,

that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.

Song of Solomon. VII. 9.

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The hop for his profit I thus do exalt,
It strengtheneth drink, and it favoureth malt:
And being well brewed, long kept it will last,
And drawing abide-if you draw not too fast.
TUSSER—Five Hundred Points of Good Hus-

bandrie. A Lesson When and Where to Plant
a Good Hop-Yard. Ch. XLIII.

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And must I wholly banish hence

These red and golden juices,
And pay my vows to Abstinence,

That pallidest of Muses?
WILLIAM WATSONTo a Maiden who bade me

shun Wine.

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crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturb'd Retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening, know. COWPER—Task. Bk. IV. L. 120.

(See also THOMSON) On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence.

KEATS-On the Grasshopper and Cricket. His breath like silver arrows pierced the air, The naked earth crouched shuddering at his feet, His finger on all flowing waters sweet Forbidding lay-motion nor sound was there: Nature was frozen dead,--and still and slow, A winding sheet fell o'er her body fair, Flaky and soft, from his wide wings of snow. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE-Winter. L. 9.

Every winter, When the great sun has turned his face away, The earth goes down into a vale of grief, And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in

sables, Leaving her wedding-garlands to decayThen leaps in spring to his returning kisses. CHARLES KINGSLEY — Saint's Tragedy. Act

III. Sc. 1.

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O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors:
The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark,
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs,
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.

WILLIAM BLAKE–To Winter.

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When now, unsparing as the scourge of war,
Blasts follow blasts and groves dismantled roar;
Around their home the storm-pinched cattle lows,
No nourishment in frozen pasture grows;
Yet frozen pastures every morn resound
With fair abundance thund'ring to the ground.
BLOOMFIELD The Farmer's Boy. Winter.
St. 2.

Look! the massy trunks
Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
Nodding and tinkling in the breath of heaven,
Is studded with its trembling water-drops,
That glimmer with an amethystine light.

BRYANT-A Winter Piece. L. 66.

Up rose the wild old winter-king,

And shook his beard of snow; “I hear the first young hare-bell ring, 'Tis time for me to go!

Northward o'er the icy rocks,

Northward o'er the sea,
My daughter comes with sunny locks:

This land's too warm for me!
LELAND-Spring.
But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews;
Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse;
Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay,
Time conquers all, and we must time obey.

POPE-Ode to Winter. L. 85.

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